


It's Called Frontotemporal Dementia (Unconditionally)

by maevedarcy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Forgive Me, Frontotemporal Dementia, I'll keep adding tags as I post probably, I'm so sorry, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Post-Season 4, Slow Burn, Smoking, So much angst, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:24:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2286618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maevedarcy/pseuds/maevedarcy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek receives Scott's call saying that he needs him, he was expecting a supernatural crisis so big that even a true Alpha couldn't solve on his own. After all, Scott couldn't need him to go out for drinks when it's been over a year since he left with Braeden looking for the Desert Wolf. However, he wasn't in any way ready to face what was waiting for him in Beacon Hills.<br/> </p><p>  <i>“It’s called frontotemporal dementia.” Stiles blurts out, “It’s what my mother had. And there’s no cure.”</i><br/><i>Derek doesn't understand what Stiles is talking about. He doesn't want to understand.</i><br/><i>So he stays there, expecting the kick to this elaborated practical joke that’s not so funny anymore. He doesn’t want to understand that this is what Scott was talking about. So he just stands there, waiting for Stiles to tell him something, anything that doesn’t include the sentence there’s no cure.</i><br/><i>He waits for what seems decades until Stiles speaks again.</i><br/><i>“Do you know what that means, Derek?”</i><br/><i>Derek keeps quiet. Stiles finally glances at him and he looks scared, so scared that Derek feels scared too.</i><br/><i>“It means I’m going to die.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the first I publish after years without writing anything more than what's strictly necessary to survive high-school and then college. It's unbeta'd so any mistakes are solely my own.
> 
>  
> 
> **Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or any of the characters. All credit goes to MTV and Jeff Davies, who is the mastermind behind one of my favorite series of all times**
> 
>  
> 
> I'd like to state that I've taken some liberties on what did and did not happen through the course of the seasons. You will see it as soon as you read the first chapter so I hope no one is too upset about it, after all it's my interpretation of the TW universe and I want to play around for a while.
> 
> This work has its roots in [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBSPQvzvDiE) by the talented [goodoceangonewrong](http://goodoceangonewrong.tumblr.com/). I'd like to congratulate them on their beautiful editing that moved someone so much that brought her back to the world of writing. Thank you so much. I mean it.
> 
>  
> 
> You can find updates on the story on my [tumblr](http://gallifreyancompanion.tumblr.com/).

“You need to come back to Beacon Hills, dude. It’s important.”

Derek looks up at the starry night that watches him from above. The night sky in the desert is probably his favorite thing about having stayed with Braeden, after Braeden and Cora, of course. There’s some kind of peacefulness to the constant roar of the wind that’s too far away to catch them, as if he finally got the time and space he needed put himself together, to think about how much his life changed during his last prolonged stay at Beacon Hills. Some time to finally grieve his loved ones lost during that last year in town.

Scott’s call took him by surprise. He thinks it’s not time for their monthly call to talk about how Malia is doing and if he can help with anything. He didn’t want to leave her alone, but he understood that Malia didn’t really know him or trust him so he left the matter at that and left with Cora and Braeden.

He can feel Cora’s uneasiness through their pack bond, straining himself to not go after her so she can take her uneasiness on him. He knows that Cora is still worried when she lets him out of his sight, as if she can’t quite grasp the idea that her brother is right there to protect her. He recognizes the attitude from his time alone with Laura thinking they were the only remnants of the Hale family.

Scott pulls Derek out his reverie by fumbling with the phone enough to catch his attention. He tries to make out what’s happening in the background, but Scott doesn’t give him enough time by speaking over him.

“Derek, believe me. You need to be here. Stiles…” Scott lets out a breath as if he had been holding it too long. At the same time, Derek feels something tremble inside of him. Stiles. Fragile and human Stiles. The only friend that he has that could be easily harmed, easily broken.

“What happened to Stiles?” Derek asks.

“It’s just… he isn’t ok. I don’t think I can tell you over the phone, not really.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

 

* * *

 

When Derek had found out about the fire in his house he had felt the air sucked out of his lungs, the floor opening under his feet and his entire life crumble before him. Laura had been there to hold him, to help him see that they needed to keep going, that they shouldn’t give up. When Laura had been killed by his own uncle he had thought that was it, he couldn’t keep going after that. Peter could be dead and he could be an alpha but there was nothing he could do to be okay again. But there were these two annoying teenagers that wouldn’t stop being in the middle of chaos and he thought that maybe -just maybe- a new pack wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

  
But life had proved him wrong again.

  
His pack was either killed on his watch, died by his own hands or moved on to a better life, a better alpha. But even against all odds Stiles had been there. He could still insist that he hated his guts at the time but he knows it’s not true. They were friends. Allies, at the very least and they had worried about each other even then.

  
And after Cora, stubborn-like-every-Hale Cora, had come back when he left her safe in South America with her old pack insisting that someone had to keep Peter’s claws from Derek, he had been so grateful to have something, someone that still felt like family that having to fight for his and his sister’s life while trying to save Stiles from a Japanese trickster spirit had felt like moving on, like growing and he knew his mother would be proud.

  
Derek thought he was finally getting some peace and quiet after the nogitsune incident and he did, he really did. After he recovered his powers and shifted into a wolf, that is.  
He had spent some time away from Beacon Hills but eventually came back drawn by something here. He had kept thinking it was someone threatening what used to be Hale territory but when nothing came up for months, he left again.

  
He had wanted to stay away, helping Braeden find the desert wolf while recovering his relationship with his sister.

In the beginning it had turned out to be what he needed, to stay away from Beacon Hills, where he only had know tragic loss and pain, but it started to feel more and more like he needed to be back there where he had also know family and, lately, friendship and loyalty at the hands of Scott and his pack.

  
He didn’t run back to beacon Hills though, after all, he knew Scott had things under control and that even when other packs had threaten his territory he had been able to drive them away without needing extra help. He kept an eye on Beacon Hills though, wanting to help Malia recover part of her ancestry if she ever decided to, but most importantly because he wanted to take care of Scott, Lydia and Stiles. Only god knew why. _Kira too_ , he adds to himself, _she helped rescue my sorry ass in Mexico. I’m in debt with her for life_.

So when Derek receives a call from Scott saying that he needs him, he doesn’t even wait for him to explain and goes back to Beacon Hills the moment he hangs up.

“Why are we doing this?” Cora asks as they carry their things over the car “I thought you never wanted to go back to that place.”

“I didn’t want to. But I’ve been thinking about going back. If only, to check on Malia without having to ask Scott how she’s doing” he replies.

“And we’re going back for Stiles” Cora deadpans.

“You can stay here if you want, but I’m sure both of us will feel better if we go together” he answers. “Besides, Scott and Stiles are my friends. I, I wanna know what’s going on.”

It feels better to admit it out loud. They're his friends and he wants to protect them. He will protect them, damn it, even if they don’t want it.  
Braeden doesn’t say anything. She studies him with a fond glance and a warm smile, as if she knew that at some point they’d be doing exactly this.

* * *

Scott isn’t at his house when they arrive to Beacon Hills almost two days after his call. Derek phones him but no one answers. He frowns and asks Braeden and Cora to check the second floor while he goes through the first one. He tries again, this time Scott answers at the second tone.

  
“Where are you?” is the first thing that leaves his mouth though he feels slightly relieved to hear his voice and to know that he’s alive.

“I’m at Stiles’. I’m going home now” Scott answered. As a second thought he adds “are you in town?”

“Yeah. I’m at your place. Cora and Braeden are with me”

Scott doesn’t say anything for a while. Derek can hear Stiles voice in the background as if he’s having a conversation with someone else. “Are you guys ok?” he asks , worrying that something happened and he wasn’t there to help them.

“I’ll be home in 15” is all that Scott says before hanging up. Worry creeps up his spine.

“The second floor is clean” Braeden states when she comes back in the room.

“Scott will be here soon. We just have to wait” he responds.

It turns out he isn’t as good waiting as he thought he was. Not when he can’t stop imagining all the things that could have gone wrong while he was helping Braeden track someone who seems to have vanished into thin air. _Why didn’t I come back before?, he ponders, I should have been here to protect them. Maybe something happened to Stiles, why else would he had been there?_

_Maybe because they’re friends?_ His own mind answers, _they’re supposed to spend time together._

_Maybe the Sheriff is sick. Maybe he had an accident working and that’s why Scott said he needs me. Maybe something supernatural happened to him and they need my help dealing with it._

“Stop thinking too hard. It’s making me dizzy” says Cora from the sofa.

Derek tries to ignore her, but a fleeting smile appears in his face. Maybe Cora is right and he’s thinking too much about nothing.

They hear Scott’s bike about a minute before he stops. It’s so stupidly loud. He’ll remember to tell Scott to change that thing before it falls apart during a ride to school.

Scott opens the door and just gapes at them. He wonders if they look too different from the last time they saw each other a little over a year. Scott looks almost the same. His hair is a little shorter and he carries himself a little different, as if a year as an Alpha had given him more confidence. He’s wearing a white and blue baseball shirt and jeans that have obviously seem better days. Derek thinks Scott still has a little of that awkward, asthmatic boy that he met over two years ago, but it’s so little that if he hadn’t met him before he’d think he’s imagining it.

“Dude, how can you be even more muscular than you were before?” Scott blurts out as way of salutation.

“Hello to you too, Scott”, he replies.

A second later they hugging each other as long lost brothers, which, in a way, they kind of are.

After Scott greets the girls, the smile that seems to be pasted into his face falters a little, to completely disappear over the next seconds.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks.

Scott looks unsure as to how to put whatever is on his mind. He takes a deep breath a then mumbles “It’s Stiles, dude.”

Something inside him freezes. He knew they were coming back for Stiles, but seeing Scott's face as he struggles to continue is shocking, to say the least. He knows his heart is pounding fast in worry and that Cora and Scott can hear it but he can’t find it in himself to care. He just knows he has to see Stiles to make sure his friend is okay.

“What happened?” he hears Braeden ask. When he looks over, Scott has taken a sit in the sofa next to Cora and he’s the only one still standing.

“Last year, before we knew he was possessed by the nogitsune, his father took him to get an MRI scan after his nightmares came back and he couldn’t concentrate or even know the difference between dreams and reality. We thought it had to do with the sacrifices but when Allison and I didn’t go through the same thing for so long, the Sheriff thought it was better to seek medical attention.”

Scott waits a few seconds before continuing, shakes his head as if he realizes something but keeps going.

“The MRI scan showed signs of atrophy in two regions of Stiles’ brain but since that same day Stiles disappeared, we ended up believing it was the nogitsune’s doing and didn’t think much about it until recently." He looks over at Derek before adding “Stiles sort of got lost a few weeks ago. Looking for your loft.”

Derek knows he shouldn’t feel guilty about it. Why would he even feel guilty about it? And yet guilt overrides the worry he’s been feeling in his chest since the mention of Stiles.

“He never told me why he was there” Scott continues, “and at first we thought he had been sleepwalking but it happened again at Lydia’s and then in my house. He started doing stuff he wouldn’t have done before like going hiking in the woods alone or driving drunk and he stopped caring about a lot of things he used to love. His panic attacks started happening every time he would realize he was doing something out of place, every time he can’t say for sure what’s so familiar about a place or when he remembers the things he did while he was possessed. So his dad thought it could be depression or bipolar disorder and my mom got him an appointment with a doctor who suggested a new MRI scan since it had been a year and he hadn’t been seeing a doctor.

“The MRI scan showed the damage in his brain had progressed and-”

Derek didn't realize he was out of the house until Scott stopped speaking. By the time he got in the car and started it, he could still hear Scott saying that part of Stiles’ brain was shrinking. He doesn't think, he just acts. Stiles is sick and he needs to see it. He needs to have proof because it couldn't be. Stiles, brave, loyal, stubborn-as-hell Stiles can’t have whatever this is. He can’t.

 

* * *

  
Stiles’ hands are shaking slightly. Scott told him that Stiles’ panic attacks had increased in frequency -every time Stiles doesn’t find familiar a place he knows he’s been before is what usually triggers him- and Derek had realized that his hands, tremble for a while after each attack. So he supposes that Stiles is only recovering from one and doesn't really need him near, but he feels something pulling him inside the boy’s room and doesn't want to stop.

Stiles’ eyes are cast down and he doesn't look up when Derek gets closer to greet him.

“Stiles” he calls.

“You’re back”, Stiles replies. Not long after that he adds “for how long?”

Derek wants to say he just came to check on him, to make sure he was alright but he’s pretty sure that Stiles is everything but fine. He notices the way Stiles worries at his bottom lip, the slight tremor in his hands, the pounding of his heart, the acrid smell of anxiety and the underlying of something else, something that could and could not be hope.

“What’s wrong Stiles?”

Derek watches him intently, expecting the boy to look back at him but he just wriggles his fingers at the end of his t-shirt for a few seconds, mouthing along with it. Derek doesn't dare to pop Stiles’ bubble but he’s becoming increasingly worried. Stiles may have ADHD and be fidgety when he doesn't take his Adderall, however he wasn't prepared to see him so nervous. Scott may have tried to prepare him, and if he had stayed and listened to him, he’d probably know how to act.

“It’s called frontotemporal dementia.” Stiles blurts out without any introduction, “It’s what my mother had. And there’s no cure.”

Derek doesn't understand what Stiles is talking about. He doesn't want to understand.

So he stays there, expecting the kick to this elaborated practical joke that’s not so funny anymore. He doesn't want to understand that this is what Scott was talking about. So he just stands there, waiting for Stiles to tell him something, _anything_ that doesn't include the sentence _there’s no cure_.

He waits for what seems decades until Stiles speaks again.

“Do you know what that means, Derek?”

Derek keeps quiet. Stiles finally glances at him and he looks scared, so scared that Derek feels scared too.

“It means I’m going to die.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am truly sorry I didn't upload this sooner but college got in the way of editing. As a reward for waiting so long I intend to upload another chapter on Monday. Sorry.

When Derek doesn't say anything for the longest time, Stiles thinks he broke him. He’s seriously starting to think he short-circuited Derek’s brain or something so before he has time to think what he’s going to do if he accidentally damaged him, he just speaks.

“Will you please say something? The silence is driving me crazy” says Stiles.

Derek’s stupid smile starts to bloom on his face and Stiles thinks that he might be having a heart attack because his heart skips a beat and his breath hitches a little and wow that’s not even Derek’s full smile and _I’m dying over here_ , he ponders. Stiles realizes he’s missed him more than he thought he ever would. Maybe it’s true what they say about near-death experiences and bonding. He’s also looking damn hot, like 10/10 would bang. He realizes a little too late that he’s thinking about banging his girlfriend’s cousin and that’s just not cool.

He comes back abruptly to the conversation when Derek asks “When is Scott gonna give you the bite?”

What?

Oh.

Derek thinks Scott probably called him to give him advice on how to deal with two betas because he’s turning Stiles, but that’s not what is about to happen. And shouldn't someone have told Derek about him before he came all the way here and he had some explaining to do?

Stiles sighs and blurts out “He’s not gonna bite me.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked him not to.”

“Why?” Derek insisted, a harshness creeps up his voice as if he’s about to snap.

“’Cause I know the bite is not always effective. You should know this better than anyone, Derek.” Stiles snaps at him.

Fuck.

He sees Derek pale at the allusion of Paige and he mentally slaps himself for it. It wasn't really his fault, he doesn't want Derek to feel like shit, he’s sure about that, but he just couldn't stop himself from saying it.

“But you’re special Stiles. You have a spark in you, you could be an emissary if you wanted to and the supernatural seems to follow you everywhere. I’m pretty sure the bite would turn you.”

“’Pretty sure’ is not good enough for me.” Stiles replies “I don’t wanna die and leave Scott blaming himself because I was too weak to take the bite.

“Look, Derek, I’m sorry. I’m not the best company lately and I won’t be it ever again. Things would be better for you if you’d just avoid me from now on. Or if you go back to wherever you were with Braeden.”

Derek frowns, crosses his arms and clenches his jaw, determined.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Well, that’s new.

Why would Derek want to see him wither and die? Does Derek want to see him die to make sure he stays dead? Or is it about something else? _He could be worried_ , he ponders, I mean we’re kinda friends or something. Even when he rode into the sunset with his dame in shining armor, I knew I could call him if I needed his help. Not that I would, but still. Maybe I should call Isaac, see him again before I stop caring. Not that the werewolf was that important, but you know, near-death experiences and bonding.

Stiles starts making a mental list of the places he’d like to go before he stops caring, but after three places he decides that he’s too poor to actually go there so he might as well suck it up and just forget about the idea. Though he starts to make a list about things he’s always wanted to do and that’s a list he might get the chance to go through.

“Stiles?”

He notices he’s drifted off a tangent and never responded anything to what Derek said.

“You know there’s four lobes in the human brain, right?” Stiles gets up from his bed and gets to his desktop, moving some papers around and opening his laptop. It’s not a proper response to Derek’s words, but to be honest, he doesn't know what is. He glances at Derek who looks confused by the sudden change of topic. Stiles opens a new tab and types ‘brain lobes’ and clicks in the first high resolution image that pops up.

“Okay, so this is the frontal lobe” he touches the screen for emphasis “and this is the temporal lobe. Frontotemporal Dementia -or frontotemporal degeneration, whatever makes you feel less uncomfortable- results in progressive damage of these areas. According to my doctor the behavioral variant is the predominant in my case, which means personality changes, apathy and emotional blunting are to be expected. The neurologist said that impairment of language may occur after behavioral changes have become notable.”

Stiles pauses and gives Derek a moment to take this in. He remembers how the doctor had insisted on giving them the talk even when Stiles’ father had already heard it and Stiles had researched the hell out of it when he was old enough to do it, he’d wanted to know so badly what had happened to his mother that he didn't sleep in two days. The talk the doctor gave him was how he explained Scott what was happening to him. There had been a lot of pauses to explain neurological terms he didn't understand and to exemplify how his behavior related to a symptom.

Derek nods as if to tell him to keep going, so he does.

“I don’t know if Scott had the time or the heart to tell you, but yes, behavioral changes have become notable and MRI scans show shrinking in the frontal lobe, which is expected to happen as the disease has progressed the early stage.” Stiles closes his laptop and focuses on Derek. “It’s different for everyone, but the progression of the disease can go anywhere from two to twenty years. Given how last year was the first time my dad noticed changes in my behavior -that we blamed on the nogitsune- my doctor is estimating that from the moment of diagnosis I get five to eight years.”

Derek stares blankly at him, lips set in a grim line, his hands hanging loosely at his sides.

“Five to eight years? Did he actually give you an estimated time of death?” the combination of worry, anger and defeat fill his voice, as if he wasn't sure what emotion wanted to take over.

“Well, he didn't want to, but after a few emails and a couple of heated discussions over appointments, he said that it wasn't as if every person followed a rule, bla, bla, bla, and then said that in a case like mine, where there were other pathologies involved, it was possible that yeah, I have five to eight years left.”

Stiles didn’t mention how he didn’t plan on getting to that stage, that he wasn’t interested in becoming a burden to his father so he would take another way out. There was still the problem of eventual apathy towards Scott or his father but he didn’t have to consider it, not now.

“You said there were other pathologies involved” Derek started hesitantly, “what does that mean?”

“Oh, my ADHD and panic disorder. There’s no much research about the interaction of FTD and other psychological disorders since in the US there’s only ever been 2 other people who had FTD and ADHD at the same time so my psychiatrist is setting me up for observational studies- I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about all of this anyway.”

Derek frowns but leaves it and Stiles doesn't have enough time to analyze it when he sees Derek stand up as if leaving, so he blurts out “do you wanna watch a movie or something?”

Derek turns around and watches him with a raised eyebrow. Stiles opens his mouth just as Malia pushes Derek aside when she gets in the room.

“A movie would be awesome” she cheers, slides an arm behind his neck and kissed his cheek. “Hi, Derek. Why didn't you mention you were stopping by? I would've stayed home to chat.”

“I came to see Stiles” he replies.

Malia's face falls a little but she puts on a smile as if daring Derek to be sad about anything. “Oh, well I hope he already drove you crazy so you and me can talk about stuff.”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

“Cora and I have been talking in the past couple of months and she told be about- about before the fire. And I was hoping you could tell me? I've tried to stay out of it but I wanna know.”

Stiles knows that Malia hasn't tried to stay out of it. Since the first time Cora mentioned a younger brother, Malia has been researching about the Hale family, trying to figure out her place in it, trying to figure out if any of the people that are dead could be like her, trapped in the woods and alive and ready to come back and have a life.

“I- I can try to-” Derek glances at the floor and then to Malia. “Look, can we do this tomorrow? I’ll stay around and there are things I need to figure out”

Malia raises her eyebrows in surprise but doesn't add anything, already getting comfortable in bed. Derek leaves a few seconds later.

 

 

*  *  *

 

Stiles’ arm is starting to hurt under Malia’s body but she’s snuggled in the perfect position where her hair is not getting in his mouth if he says anything and she feels warm and nice against his body. Malia is clearly engaged in the battle going on the screen but Stiles lost interest a little after the first 20 minutes. He knows the movie is near the end but he really, really wants to go out and do something else, out of his mind having stayed in the same position for over two hours.

So when the credits roll in, he slightly pushes Malia away and gets up, puts on his sneakers and leaves the room.

“Stiles!” she calls from the door frame “where are you going? You told me to never leave before the very end of any marvel movie. What’s wrong?”

“I- I really need to get out of the house” he replies.

“Oh, just go. I’ll catch up with you in a second.”

And he’s glad that she doesn't ask why, mentions that’s nearly 10 pm on school night or that tomorrow he has a Spanish test. He’s also absurdly happy when she catches up with him less than a minute later, even when he sprinted out of the house and hasn't stopped to catch a breath yet.

Less than a block away he comes to a stop and tries to level his breathing. Malia just hovers nearby, stretching as if she needed it to stop the burn in her muscles. After a minute or so he starts running at a steady pace, Malia keeping up effortlessly, without saying a word or asking if he’s tired already, and he loves her so much for that, for not being patronizing towards the sick, fragile human.

Stiles doesn't know for how long they keep running, but he’s guessing it wasn't as long as his body thinks it is. He slows down when they get to a small convenience shop.

“Are you carrying any cash? I’d kill for a bottle of water” he tells her. She nods and they walk in.

After a few minutes, they’re sitting in the border of the sidewalk eating brownies and washing them down with a bottle of orange juice. Stiles is thankful for Malia’s mindless talk about school, the yearbook and about her favorite senior pictures. Eventually, he stands up and offers her a hand, that she takes smiling, and they start their walk home.

Stiles offers taking Malia home, she declines saying that her father is still mad since he found out about her most recent interest on the Hale family. His father had come clean about the adoption -or as much as he knew about it- when she had confronted him, but he didn't like that his daughter wanted to know about a family that no longer existed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Malia nods and closes the space between them in a tender, but short-lived kiss. “And thank you”, he adds as a afterthought “for, you know.”

She smiles and kisses him again. Warm lips softly pressed against his, making him forget about how out of place his run was starting to feel.

When he goes inside, his dad calls out for him from his office, where he has two piles of work, one significantly bigger than the other and Stiles guesses that he’s in his weekly cold case reviewing night.

“Hi, dad!”

“Goodnight, son. Care to tell me where have you been until 11 on a school night?”

“Malia and I watched a movie and then I felt like going for a run so she went with me.”

Stiles knows that his father is remotely less worried when he goes out with Malia, given the sharp claws and teeth.

“Did you have something to eat?”

“Yeah, we ate while watching the movie”

He seems satisfied with his answer so they chat about work and school for a while. Stiles ends up eating a sandwich while his dad tells him about a kid that has been shoplifting in the same store for over a month at the same time, every Friday. The clerk knew who he was but he never had the heart to stop him since he looked so lost and thin, but the girl he hired noticed him and called the police.

“The kid can’t be more that 13 years old but he doesn’t seem to know. We kept him in for the night and child services will come find him in the morning. There isn't much we can do at the moment when he’s got no fingerprints in the system and the kid doesn't remember a thing or he won’t say what he remembers.”

Stiles knows there’s something a little off about this but since it doesn't ring a bell, he shelves it for picking at it later.

“I’ll just go to bed” he blurts out.

“Okay.” His father watches him for a second too long but lets it go. “Goodnight son. Sleep well.”

“’Night, dad!” he yells already from the stairs.

 

 

*  *  *

 

He’s already in bed when he notices the flashing light in the corner of his phone. He unlocks the screen to find a message from an unknown number.

_We can watch that movie tomorrow -Derek._

Stiles goes to sleep with an absurd smile on his face at the idea of Derek actually staying. He knows there’s something off about that but since he can’t tell what, he shelves it for later.


	3. Chapter 3

  
Derek can feel hands pulling him down as he tries to climb back to the surface, he does not really expect to escape them, but if he’s going to die, he’s going down fighting. Cora’s screams fill his ears and the smell of smoke chokes him. He has to try to save his sister, even if it costs him his life, he’s not letting anyone else die.

He shakes himself free of whoever was pulling him down and starts running. He’s not getting there soon enough. He’s failing yet again, damn it. So he runs faster, until his lungs are burning both from smoke inhalation and exhaustion.

He can see Cora behind a small wall, part of what used to be the Hale house and he realizes something is not right. The house hasn’t been there in over a year, Cora can’t be burning inside of it. But it’s not enough to stop him from getting closer, from trying to save his little sister no matter what.

“Derek, leave!” she screams “For fuck’s sake please leave it and save yourself!”

He doesn’t want to listen to her, so he just ignores that little voice at the back of his head that’s telling him that Cora’s right and it’s too late for him to save her, and tries to find a way around the house, around the fire to help her out.

“Derek!” he risks a glance at the spot her sister was just to find Stiles, fragile and human Stiles, screaming for him.

“Stiles, hold on, I’m getting you out of there!” he screams back at him.

“Please, Derek, just leave” the boy cries “don’t stick around to watch me die. Get out!”

His whole world shakes around the edges and then he’s staring at Braeden, who’s shaking him awake.

“Derek it’s okay. It was just a nightmare” Braeden says. He nods, trying to get his breathing under control when he notices Cora by the door, worrying at her bottom lip with a concerned expression. He feels her uneasiness through their pack bond. It might not be a strong bond, but they’re family, so it’s there in the back of his mind all the time.

“You can come in, you know” he tells her.

Derek’s nightmares are not as frequent as they used to be, but when they occur, Cora always wants to be there to comfort him, to give him some sense of reality when things feel out of control. Cora has nightmares too but she doesn’t talk about it. Ever. She just finds her way to Derek’s side and it seems to make her feel better. She sits at the end of the bed, reaching for his hand and Derek pulls her to come closer.

“I’ll give you some space” Braeden remarks. He doesn’t want her to leave, but she’s already at the door.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asks.

He doesn’t, but maybe he should. After all, she’s the only person left that can understand. In the end, he says “It was the fire again.”

There’s no point in elaborating or mentioning Stiles. That’s something his sister wouldn’t understand.

Sensing there’s more to it, she climbs into the bed and sits next to him with her back against the headboard. “I’m glad you weren’t inside the house that day.”

His throat tightens and a heavy weight settles in his stomach. This is what he didn’t want to think about. He closes his eyes, letting his head fall against the headboard while Cora’s hand holds his a little tighter. Derek wishes he had been inside. Maybe he could’ve helped, maybe Kate wouldn’t have had the time to set everything in motion and kill his family, maybe he could’ve died and he wouldn’t be blaming himself for everything that happened that day.

“Can you tell me how was it inside?” he finds himself asking.

“No. I’m not gonna let you torture yourself even more.”

Cora knows about his part on the fire. She had screamed and cried at the beginning, but none of her words were directed at him. She had tried to go find Kate by herself but she didn’t make it a mile before Derek found her and brought her back. A part of him was relieved that she didn’t blame him, not even in the beginning but it didn’t mean that he was about to forgive himself for all the people he killed thanks to his stupid infatuation with Kate.

During all this time, she had avoided most of his questions about the fire, but dreaming about Stiles in the fire made him want to know. “Was Matt awake? And Jared?”

Matt had been barely 4 at the time of the fire. He was his Emma’s only kid and he was human. Derek knew that most of the werewolves burnt but he was hoping that at least the kids hadn’t, that if they had to die, they fell asleep, smoke inhalation taking hold of them before the flames claimed them. Jared was his youngest brother. He had been only 7. He could feel guilt creeping up his spine at the thought of his baby brother.

“This is exactly why we don’t do heartfelt talk. I can smell it on you.”

Derek glances at his sister who’s staring off into space, the memories of that night still haunt her as much a they haunt him. He puts an arm around her shoulders, stroking her hair as she leaned on him.

“I miss them so much, Derek” her voice shaking a little by the end. He doesn’t have to look at her to feel the overwhelming grief that hides behind her eyes. This is exactly why they keep heartfelt talks to a minimum. They’re painful, devastating, destroying every bit of the facade they’ve managed to build during their time alone.

Before he has time to reply, Cora adds “I can’t remember the sound of Laura’s voice or Joseph’s. I’m scared that someday I won’t remember them at all.”

Derek tightens his hold on Cora’s shoulder but doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing he can reply to that. A few seconds later, he hears Braeden opening the door of the loft.

“I hate this place,” Cora mumbles. She stands up, wiping her eyes and adds “maybe we should get our house back.”

Derek glances at the clock in the nightstand, noticing it’s barely past three. He lies down and tries not to think. A few seconds later, Braeden is by his side. He falls asleep soon after that. He dreams of that time he and Laura had planned to get their house back while still in New York. Almost 3 months later, she traveled alone to their hometown looking for a rogue werewolf. The last thing Laura had told him back then was “I’ll be back soon, it won’t be much trouble.”

  
* * *

  
Derek was on his way home from the library when the fire in his house started. Laura had been driving him because she was the only one willing to do it at 7 pm when his car was dead. She also said that it helped her keep her mind out of Amelia. She hadn’t had the best of times lately, after her girlfriend had been killed by hunters and Joseph, their oldest brother and who had been the closest to her room, was constantly checking on her almost expecting the moment in which he had to wake her up from her nightmares.

They were barely at the highway when they heard the screams.

A high-pitched scream that made its way inside him and tore him apart.

“Emma” he had whispered.

Laura hit the pedal with enough force to make the wheels squeak. She made a sharp turn as she said “I smell fire. Derek call 911.”

He knew that his family would be safe, those who were werewolves would heal and those who were humans would be taken out by the others. He knew that his parents and Joseph wouldn’t waste time taking the others to safety. He knew that Heather would want to help with the kids, if only, to feel a useful, active part of the pack since she wasn’t directly related. He knew that his mother would order everyone out as soon as she could, that Audrey would fight any hunter who dared to touch the youngest. However he was worried about Kate. He knew there was a high chance she was already waiting for him in the basement, there was a reason he showed her the tunnels leading out from the basement, and he was late from the library thanks to his sister’s insistence that they grabbed something to eat on their way home.

When they arrived to the house, it was chaos.

Derek assumed that someone alerted the fire department from inside because there was a truck already there, firemen trying to put out the fire with fire extinguishers. However, he wishes he couldn’t hear beyond the firemen screaming instructions or the crackling of the fire, but he can hear his aunt Emma screaming at someone to try to take Matt out. He can hear his little brother Jared screaming for mom. He can hear his mother scream Laura to get the hell out of there. That’s when he realizes his sister is no longer by his side.

Derek runs toward the house and now not only he can hear the house being eaten away by the fire but he can also smell it. It hits his nose like a wave, the coppery smell of blood and pain, the strong odor of burnt plastic and anguish, and the underlying sickly sweet, acrid smell of burnt meat.

He feels sick, his world shaking around the edges. He falls to his knees and throws up until his abdomen hurts, the sounds of fire and screaming all around him. His vision is blurry and he can’t get enough air into his lungs. He starts choking. He doesn’t know if it’s the smoke or if it’s because all of his family is inside and they can’t get out. Oh my god, they can’t get out, his mind tells him. They can’t get out and I can’t help them. Jesus, Derek get up, get up, get up, they need you. Cora, Jared, mom…

He feels two strong hands shaking him and looks up to find Laura there, her face covered with a thin layer of soot, her hair streaked gray where ash had touched it, her tear-stained face desperate to get a reaction out of him.

“Derek, please look at me” she screams. “For god’s sake, I need you to look at me, right now”

The urgency in her voice frightens him so much that he feels 10 years old again, seeing his sister freak out when he fell off a tree and broke his arm and it wouldn’t heal because he was having a panic attack. He watches her and tries to focus only in her voice, not in the way Joseph is screaming that the trap door of the tunnel was closed from the outside and he isn’t strong enough to break whatever they put above it.

“Derek, the house is surrounded by mountain ash. The window frames are lined with it too. We can’t do anything.”

“The trap door,” he mumbles, expecting her to understand. After a few seconds of a lost stare, realization dawns into her face as she takes off to the trap door half a mile from the house. He follows her only seconds after and helps her move the tree trunks that were thrown over it.   
Their efforts are encountered with more mountain ash, but someone is pushing the door from the inside with enough strength that the ash scatters enough for Laura to get the handle and open the trap door.

Peter is the first to get out, carrying an unconscious Cora over his shoulder.

“Where are the others Peter?” Laura shouts “Where are the others?”

Her panic is palpable, so intense that Derek feels paralyzed by it. Peter has a shocked look in his face, as if he can’t believe what he just saw or what he can smell from the house. Derek tries to strain his ears to listen to something besides the loud crackling of the fire, however, he can’t listen to much.

Peter lays Cora in the floor and Derek goes to her, but he can’t feel a pulse. He can feel the tears stinging his eyes but he can’t cry, not now, not here, not with his entire family needing his help.

Derek starts to the trap door but Peter stops him.

“Half of the first floor gave in, Derek. You can’t go past the tunnel without something falling over you.” That’s when Peter seems to realize half of his face is melting. He touches the bloody side of his face with an equally bloody hand. Laura tells him to stop, that they need to get him medical attention, that he’s lost so much tissue that it will take some time to heal by itself. Derek hears them speak hurriedly about going to get a medic but it seems Peter is not responding anymore. Laura keeps asking him about the kids and Joseph who was right here but the lack of answer makes him think they’re dead. Derek doesn’t want to believe it, so when he hears someone coming from the tunnel, he knows he can help them so he jumps in.

“Derek!” Laura yelled, but he is already inside and walking towards whoever is coming to greet him. It turns out, he never should have entered there, there was too much smoke, his eyes stung and he can’t get enough air. He can’t get to the basement because part of the ceiling of the tunnels gave in while he was making his way inside. Derek sees someone struggling underneath the weight of it and hurries over there.

“Emma” he whispers when he’s close enough that he can smell her scent below the odor of burnt flesh. He tries to move the chunk of cement that is keeping her down but his knees are weak and he isn’t strong enough. He’s feeling lightheaded from the smoke and the intense emotions that have driven him the last minutes.

“Get out of here Derek” his aunt ordered “you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Just give me a few seconds. I can lift this, I know” he replied.

“I can’t feel my body, Derek, there’s nothing to do. Get out for fuck’s sake”

He doesn’t believe it, he can’t believe it, so he tries one more time.

“Leave it, Derek!” someone screamed from the inside, he believes it’s Joseph, but his voice sounds so hoarse that he could have passed as their father. Derek looks at his aunt and sees that she stopped struggling, as if she has nothing else to live for, and closes her eyes as if waiting for it to be over.

Derek focuses on his aunt for a few seconds when he hears something crumbling a few meters away. He thinks he hears a surprised, short yell and then just fire eating away every piece of his life. He shot a glance at Emma but she isn’t moving anymore, he can’t listen to her heartbeat but in the middle of that inferno he can’t hear even his own heart, so he runs towards the exit, his throat sore and burnt, his eyes stinging and a huge void inside him that consumes him step after step.

When he was out in the woods again, Derek risked a look at the hole he came from and can see a small current of liquid making its way towards the spot he occupied just seconds ago. He doesn’t think much about it at the moment, only goes to look for his sisters and his uncle, numb of sensation, frozen in a feeling of hopelessness that would never leave his heart again.

* * *

  
Derek finds Scott after school the next day. He’s with Liam and Malia playing Lacrosse in his patio. Malia clearly isn’t there to play fair, he notices. She kicks, scratches and trips the guys trying to score the goal. It seems as if she only wants the adrenaline rush that comes with the game more than anything. Derek still doesn’t understand what’s the big deal about lacrosse.

When Scott spots him, he gives Liam a sign to keep playing and comes to meet Derek at the railing where he’s leaning.

“What’s up, Derek?”

“We need to talk about Stiles,” he replies.

Scott frowns but gestures Derek to follow into the house. The back door leads to the kitchen, where Scott helps himself to a glass of water before taking a deep breath and looking at Derek.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Derek. Stiles doesn’t want the bite and I don’t want to do to him what Peter did to me.”

Sometimes Derek wishes Scott was a less noble person, that he was easily corruptible or that he just didn’t care about others as much as he does, because he’s sure that that alternative version of Scott would have turned Stiles no matter what and damn the consequences.

Derek glances through the window at Liam and Malia, whose lacrosse game has tuned feral, their eyes shining as they push each other around the patio. Scott seems worried but not enough to intervene. Derek wonders if this is a usual occurrence when it dawns on him that Kira is nowhere to be seen.

“So you and Kira..?”

“No, we’re just friends now.” After a few seconds, he adds with a smile “I think she’s got a crush on Malia, actually.”

Derek raises both of his eyebrows at that. He knew that Scott and Kira hadn’t been dating for almost 5 months now. He didn’t know exactly what happened but he supposes that there’s a reason why wolves and foxes don’t get along. It’s not really his business so he won’t ask.

“Tell me more about Stiles,” Derek says out of nowhere.

Scott gives him a strange look, but complies anyway. He’s telling Derek about Stiles’ mood swings and newfound habits as smoking and reading every book that gets to his hands until page 25, when his phone rings. Scott glances at his phone and frowns before answering “Lydia, are you ok? Is Stiles alright?”

Derek is thankful for werewolf hearing when Lydia mutters at the other end of the line “I don’t know. I, I don’t know where Stiles went.”

Before he knows it or thinks much about it, he snatches the phone from Scott’s hold and growls “where are you?”

“Derek?”

“Lydia, just tell me where you lost him,” he insists.

“That’s the thing, I’m at Stiles’ house, he’s nowhere to be seen and his jeep is still in the driveway.”

Derek notices Liam and Malia coming in as he hangs up. After that, he runs to his car and races to look for Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written [an apology letter](http://gallifreyancompanion.tumblr.com/post/101650994150/to-all-icftd-readers) to all those kind souls that believed my lies about updating on time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took the longest time to edit. I'm sorry but it didn't feel right, until it did.

Stiles is sitting in the curb, waiting for something to happen. He had been with Lydia not too long ago but he was suffocating in her company and didn’t want to hurt his friend telling her that he really needed to be alone for the foreseeable future. Even now he doesn't know what he’s waiting for.

He’s eighteen, on his first semester of senior year and he’s dying. There must be a joke somewhere in there. He wishes the universe enjoys the cruel joke that is his life. All the people he hangs out with are supernatural creatures that could have him killed, he was poisoned by a kanima twice, he was freaking possessed for several weeks and he’s dying of terminal illness. Seriously, whoever is writing the script of his life must be having a laugh.

His phone rings again but he can’t be bothered to answer. It must be Lydia again, maybe Scott. Stiles doesn’t want to talk to either of them. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone actually, he’d rather be alone for an hour more. Maybe walk some more. With that thought on mind, he stands up and keeps walking in the direction we was in before he stopped. His hands start twitching and he feels restless so as soon as he sees a convenience store he buys some cigarettes and a lighter. The clerk gives him a once-over but doesn't say anything as she takes Stiles’ money.

He walks a couple of minutes before lighting the cigarette, taking a long drag and throwing his head back as he exhales. Instant relief fills him, as if he had done something right for once. His walk slows down as he smokes, more relaxed than he was before and he wonders if it has something to do with the distance he’s put between him and the house. Lighting up another cigarette, he comes to a full stop and sits in the curb once again.

When his phone rings again, he picks up between drags of his cigarette without glancing at the caller.

“What?” he growls.

“Are you ok?” Derek asks. That’s a surprise.

“Yes,” he replies shortly.

“Where are you?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” he says as he hangs up.

Why do people insist in finding him? He doesn't want to be found, he just wants to melt against the landscape and disappear, disintegrate slowly without having to worry about what’s eating his brain away until all that makes him Stiles disappears. He also wants to angst by himself, is that so hard to understand?

He puts out the cigarette and looks at the sky. It’s not exactly cloudy but it isn't clear either, it’s more of an in between state that reminds Stiles of himself. He’s in an in between state now, not dead yet but not exactly alive either.

Stiles takes a deep breath, distracted by the blue sky dotted with gray-ish clouds staring at him. He was so out of it that he doesn't notice a car stopping a few meters from him.

When someone sits next to him, he glances at them and sees Derek. Not so surprising anymore. After all, he keeps turning in wherever he is. He takes another cigarette out and lights it as a way to avoid Derek. When he takes a drag of it, his throat burns a little, obviously overworked with the smoke inhalation. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Derek frowning.

Derek just sits there watching him smoke and Stiles doesn't do anything to break the silence. What’s the point, really? He’ll just want to know why Stiles is out there, sitting in the curb, miles from home doing absolutely nothing.

When he puts out this cigarette, he turns to Derek and just looks. He’s not so different from last year, he reasons. Does he look more attractive? Maybe, but maybe yesterday had been the impression of seeing Derek in his room again. Stiles stops that track of thought seeing that the day before he had been thinking about banging his girlfriend’s cousin. Not cool, he reminds himself.

Stiles finally stands up and looks down at Derek. “Okaaaay, I'm ready for you to take me back.”

Derek just stares at him, as if he can’t understand Stiles and never will.

“We don’t have to, you know. If you don’t want to go back we can just sit here until you decide you want to leave,” Derek remarks.

Stiles just rises his eyebrows, unsure of how to answer to that.

“It’s… It’s ok to want to be away,” Derek adds. “I kept doing it to Laura when we moved to New York, especially once the panic started to ease the longer we stayed away from Beacon Hills. Wolves don’t do well in big cities, and New York felt… suffocating, to say the least.”

Stiles doesn’t know how to reply to that either. Derek and him have never done this wholehearted talk. Maybe it’s a trap to get him to admit he’s scared shitless about what’s gonna happen to him, maybe Derek has learned to talk about this kind of stuff while he was away, he can’t be sure.

Doubtful about how to proceed, he sits down again. He was about to light another cigarette but thinks better of it and puts it back in the box.

“So, how was the honeymoon?” Stiles asks, feeling like he’s making a fool of himself, but he wants to know. Everything about Derek is always surrounded in mystery, but maybe he gets a chance to see what’s below the surface. Or at least he thinks so, after Derek started sharing about his past voluntarily.

He’s pretty sure he overstepped some kind of boundary when Derek’s posture changes. It was sudden and unexpected so Stiles is a little take aback. He wonders then if Derek and Braeden are still together. People break up and they can still be friends, obviously. But why would they break up? They looked pretty smitten last time he saw them together, they seemed as if they were in it for the long run.

In the end, Derek says “Not that is really any of your business, but we were looking for someone in the dessert. If I were to go on a honeymoon I sure as hell wouldn’t take my little sister.”

Stiles smiles at that.

“Then, how was the hunt? Anything good came out of it?”

“No much, to be honest. It’s like this dessert wolf woman just banished of the face of the Earth,” he answers. Stiles’ head jerks at that.

He had heard it from Malia once. She had been digging around looking for her biological mother with the only clue Peter had given her. The dessert wolf. Needless to say, she hadn’t been successful but Malia kept asking, she kept trying to find out what happened to make her mother disappear. Stiles thinks she resents her a little, that maybe she could have been born in a put together home with her family, grown up with her cousins, maybe a sibling or two. Maybe she wouldn’t have become a killer. But she doesn’t share most of this with stiles, he just tries to guess from what he can read on her face.

“What did you say? How did you call that woman?”

“The dessert wolf. Braeden has been looking for her for-”

“Peter said that was Malia's mother,” he blurts out. “Malia has been looking for her too. As far as I know it’s a dead end.”

“What? No, she can’t be.”

“I don’t know much, maybe you should talk to Malia.” After a beat, he adds “or Peter. After all, he’s the one who put it in Malia’s head.”

Derek shakes his head. Not sure about what to say, Stiles thinks it would be better to just get back. They do so, not longer after that.

 

* * *

 

When they get back home, Stiles knows it was a bad idea. Scott pretty much throws himself at Stiles in a tight hug, repeating he’s sorry over and over again. He doesn’t know what Scott is sorry for but it doesn't matter, he could be stabbed and apologize. That's the kind of person Scott is.

Stiles regrets his decision of texting everyone that he was coming back when he spots Lydia. She just looks at him, shakes her head and leaves. Lydia has been there with him every step all the way since Stiles was told he was dying and he repays her by disappearing on her. Great. Now he feels guilty as fuck.

Malia is on his arms not long after that. She’s hugging him and threatening to tie him to his bed if necessary to keep him from running away. He hugs her back and promises that he won’t do it again but he doesn't believe it. Stiles knows that at some point those promises are gong to mean absolutely nothing.

He glances at Derek, remembering their conversation in the curb, notices his frown but shortly after that, Derek is leaving, saying that he needs to be somewhere else.

The rest of the afternoon is spent with Scott and Malia fussing over him while they watch movies. They leave early, promising to find him the next day at school. Stiles has a Government Law essay due in two days that he hasn't started but he finds it hard to concentrate at the moment, especially when he glances at the board by the wall. All those unsolved mysteries he couldn't leave alone: Malia's mother, Meredith, even Braeden, because he’s not about to say that he completely buys the ‘retired mercenary’ thing. Though that’s probably just jealousy talking. _Not jealously_ , he reasons, _concern_. For his pack… and Derek. Not that he’d ever say that to his face.

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears something by the door. Stiles turns around to find Allison smiling at him.

“Are you busy?” she asks.

Before he has time to ask how is she there, he replies “well, there’s the Government essay I’m not writing.”

She laughs as she enters the room and sits by his bed.

“Look, I need your help convincing Lydia that she has to ask Parrish out because he’s obviously not making a move first, he’s too noble for that.”

“Why would I convince Lydia to go out with someone who isn’t me?”

“Because you have a girlfriend?”

Right. Malia is his girlfriend. Allison obviously knows that because she’s his friend and friends know this kind of stuff about each other. A small part of his minds knows that talking to Allison is somewhat unsettling but he can’t remember exactly why.

“So, will you help me?”

Stiles doesn't have time to reply before his phone rings, he makes a gesture to Allison to wait a second and listens to his dad telling him that he’s staying at the station past ten, that the boy he had told him about yesterday had disappeared and he was needed there. Stiles told him not to worry, that he was ok and Allison was keeping him company. That catches the sheriff’s attention.

“Allison?”

“Yeah, she came over to help with my Government essay. We’ll be fine.”

He hears his dad whisper something over the line but doesn't get it.

“Son, are we talking about the Argent girl?”

“I don’t know any other Allison, Dad.”

There’s a long silence after that. For a moment he thinks his father hang up, but no, he realizes as he glances at the phone, he’s still there. “Dad?,” he checks.

“I’m here. I was just… talking to a deputy about the case. Can you tell me what’s Allison like?”

“What do you mean, dad? You’ve met Allison, you know her.” He turns around to see that she’s flipping the pages of his copy of Fahrenheit 451. She looks up to him, smiles and mouths _everything ok?_. He just nods and tries to listen to what he’s father is saying but he’s already missed half of it. “What? Sorry I didn’t catch that,” he says.

The sheriff sighs loudly and remarks “look, kid, I’m sending Scott over, ok?”

“What? No! Dad, there’s no such thing as a happy-” he cuts himself and walks to the hallway out of his room. “There’s no such thing as a happy break up. I don’t want to deal with all the awkwardness that will ensue if you send Scott here. Besides, I don’t need a babysitter. Allison can literally put an arrow through the eye of any possible threats. We’ll be alright.”

He hangs up without expecting his dad’s answer. When he goes into the room again, however Allison is nowhere to be seen.

“Allison?”

She couldn't have gone anywhere without him noticing, unless she went out the window. Which, knowing Allison, is not really unlikely. Eight years gymnastics, his brain supplies. Stiles is not sure how he knows it, but he does.

Stiles goes over the window to see if she’s outside, when he doesn't see her anywhere he starts to worry. Maybe something happened while he was on the phone, maybe someone took her, maybe-

His mind stops when he hears fighting down the hallway, he gets right on time to see Allison reaching for an arrow before the oni runs a sword through her stomach. Stiles screams louder than he ever thought he could, running towards Allison as her body drops to the floor. When he reaches her, the oni is nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, he’s back at Oak Creek, running through the tunnels with Lydia holding him up. They stop abruptly as the banshee screams for Allison. Not long after that, he blacks out. Later, he would wake up and ask for Allison but it was too late.

But not right now, right now it wasn't. He could save her, he just needed to keep her alive long enough for Scott to arrive and turn her.

“I’m sorry, Allison. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” he repeats over and over as he presses his hands down Allison’s stomach.

“It’s okay, Stiles… It’s gonna be okay.”

Of course Allison would be the one offering comfort because that’s just who she was. He wants to say something but he can’t stop sobbing his apologies to his friend.

“You have- you have to tell my dad, Stiles. You have to tell him,” she frantically repeats. He wants to ask what, that he’d do whatever she wants him to do but she’s no longer moving, her warm blood soaking his clothes, spreading slowly over the floor.

Stiles is trembling, his breathing shallow as he moves away from Allison’s body to lean against the wall. He had failed his friend again, he had let her die horribly while he watched. Stiles tries to take a deep breath, but the sobs trapped inside him wouldn't allow the release. His vision blurs at the edges, his heart pounding loud in his ears, the shaking getting worse as the anxiety takes hold of him.

 _Get a fucking grip, Stiles_ , he berates himself as he attempts to fight the panic back but the harder he tries, the image of Allison’s limp body fills his mind, making him go over the attack again and again.

He startles when someone touches his shoulder. Making an effort to put himself together in front of whoever is there, he tries to stand up on his own, however a wave of nausea knocks him back to the ground where he pulls his knees close to his chest and curls in on himself with his back against the wall and his head resting on his arms. The best solution is to just wait it out, it will pass, they always pass.

But he can’t get a grip on reality because he killed Allison again, he killed his friend again, he killed her when he was the one who deserved to die. Stiles forces himself to take a deep breathe, wincing when a whimper leaves his mouth. He wants this panic attack to just go away so he can stop embarrassing himself. The person that had touched him is there, probably staring at him, waiting in silence for him to come out of it. It’s probably Scott, he reasons, his dad had mentioned sending him over, but it doesn't make him feel any better this time.

He wants to curl further in on himself, hide from Scott for the rest of time, that way Stiles won’t have to face him and tell him that he killed his first love again.

Slowly, his breathing starts to level and his heart rate becomes steadier. Stiles takes a deeper breath before raising his head, running his finger through his sweat soaked hair. In front of him, Scott is examining him as thoroughly as he can from his position. He hears pacing somewhere in the house but doesn’t bother asking. Stiles struggles to a somewhat upright position, rushing towards the bathroom where he leans over the toilet and throws up. He’s still sobbing, snot running down his nose as he waits for the heaves to subside.

When he’s done, Stiles sits next to the toilet and winces as he notices his blood stained hands. He rushes over the sink and scrubs his hands clean with all the strength he can gather. He’s stopped by Scott’s hands over his.

“Hey, it’s okay, Stiles. It’s gonna be okay.”

He slumps over his friend, desperate sobs coming out of his mouth at hearing Allison’s words from Scott. His best friend just holds him until he’s spent, then takes him to his room and sits there with him until he falls asleep.

He dreams of Allison, this time smiling in her silver dress as Scott asks her to dance. Stiles dances with Lydia, and they discuss her Fields medal over a slow beat electronic song.


	5. Chapter 5

Derek is sitting in the balcony, taking advantage of the early morning light to sketch. He had been doing it more often lately, but tried to keep it away from Braeden and Cora. Derek wasn’t sure why, but it felt like his sketchbook was for his eyes only, not that he was that good at it but right at this moment, he didn’t want anyone to know what he was sketching. Or who, to be more specific.

 

In that exact moment, however, he hears Cora getting closer to the balcony. He closes the sketchpad and hides it by sitting on it. Really smart, Derek, he thinks as Cora opens the door and raises an eyebrow indicating that she knows exactly what he was doing.

 

“Why do you keep pretending I don’t know you’re sketching?” Cora asks, sitting down next to him.

 

“Why do you keep pretending I don’t know you’re looking at colleges?”

 

Cora doesn’t reply, just observes him for a few seconds before changing the subject. “Why aren’t you trying to convince Scott to turn Stiles?”

 

Derek tenses at the question. It’s been almost a week since Stiles got away on Lydia’s watch. That was the last time he saw any of them.

 

“Whatever Stiles wants, it’s not my place to intervene,” he replies trying for nonchalance. He knows it doesn’t work when his sister just raises her eyebrows.

 

Cora apparently decides that Stiles is not really a topic interesting enough and just sits in silence for a while. It doesn’t last long because his sister likes to prod and jab at any topic she finds. This time is Derek’s life choices.

 

“You know, we could go back to New York if you want. You could finish your master’s. We don’t need to stay here.”

 

When he doesn’t reply immediately, Cora keeps talking. “This place is so fucked up, Derek. Staying here is fucked up, and after all that’s happened to us here I don’t know how you can stand it.”

 

Derek know that since Cora was just 12 at the time of the fire, she might not remember the same things that he does, how Beacon Hills was not only his family’s territory, but the place they had sworn to protect. Laura and him had had a difficult time being away from Beacon Hills because the land called to them and they had wanted to come back more than it was reasonable for two people who had lost everything here.

 

Three months before Laura came back to Beacon Hills, Laura brought up for the first time how they could come back, maybe get their place back. Derek hadn’t listened to her and took off before she could finish calling his name. He had stayed away that night and Laura didn’t mention it when he came back.

 

It had taken almost a week of Laura’s not-so-subtle glances to get him to talk about it.

 

“We can’t stay here forever, Der. You hate New York, I hate New York. We should at least get out of this place soon.”

 

They lived in the highest floor of an old building on Hudson Square. Everywhere he looked there were buildings in the horizon. Derek would lie if he said he didn’t miss running through the woods, the sound of their footsteps as they ran together, the smell of the earth and the trees around them.

 

But if they came back, none of the things he missed would come back to him. His mother wouldn’t be home when he came back from school, Joseph wouldn’t be packing and unpacking everything he owned to move out with his girlfriend, Cora wouldn’t be painting in her room, growling whenever someone came closer to her room, not letting anyone look at her work when it was unfinished.

 

However, Laura had wanted to come back so bad, and she had found a reason when a rogue werewolf was messing around Beacon Hills. The next time he saw his sister it was to bury her in the family property she had missed so much.

 

Now, Derek looks at Cora and knows that even if she wants to leave, she can feel it too, the pull of the earth, the land calling to them, almost begging them to stay. They might not be the pack they had been before the fire, but the Hale family had always defended this territory and they would keep doing it until there were no more Hales left.

 

Derek’s phone chimes in his pocket and Cora arches an eyebrow. Aren’t you gonna pick up? It seems to say. He takes it out and frowns when he sees Stiles’ name on the screen.

 

“Stiles?”

 

There’s no sound from the other side and Derek’s scowl deepens. Then he hears Stiles’ ragged breathing followed by a whimper.

 

“Stiles are you okay?”

 

“Derek” he sobs.

 

Derek is on his feet before he even thinks about it. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I don’t know where I am, I don’t know how I got here. I think I was sleepwalking.”

 

Everything in Derek freezes at that. He can remember the days Stiles was possessed by the nogitsune and this feels a little too similar for his own comfort.

 

“Stiles, I have to call your dad, I-”

 

“No! No, no, no, no. Derek, please don’t call my dad,” Stiles interrupts, his uneasiness evident in his shaking voice. “Just- Please promise me you won’t call him.”

 

“Stiles, I can’t-”

 

“Please, Derek,” the boy begs from the other side of the line. “Just come find me okay?”

 

Derek takes a deep breath and glances at Cora, who’s listening with frown.

 

“Tell me what you see. Street signs, buildings, anything.”

 

There’s a pause, but Derek can hear Stiles sniffing, probably looking around.

 

“Just- just buildings,” his voice falters. “I think I’m close to the First National Bank. I’m not sure, I’ve never been here before.”

 

“Stay right where you are, okay?” When Stiles agrees, he adds, “stay in the phone with Cora.”

 

“What?” he hears him say and toss the phone to his sister, gesturing her to follow him. He listens to Cora talking to Stiles about Derek, apparently the only thing they had in common, and asking questions about Derek when she wasn’t around to see him. Stiles’ voice sounds less anxious as he describes their first meeting.

 

They get into the car and Derek races through the streets of Beacon Hills at warp speed. He knows Stiles is calming down by the way he’s cracking jokes at Cora, shamelessly flirting as he tells her something about Scott. Still, Derek can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong or that Stiles might be hurt and he is worried. God, he would have never imagined this two years ago.

 

When the First National Bank is on his sight, he slams on the brakes and the car comes to a halt with the loud screech of rubber against asphalt. Cora is glowering at him from the passenger seat. “Was that really necessary?,” she asks.

 

Probably not. “We’re going to track him by scent,” he says instead.

 

“I don’t have a scent on him,” his sister replies, as if this was the most obvious thing on the world.

 

“There’s a hoodie on the floor by the backseat,” Derek doesn’t remember how it got there, probably when he picked up Stiles from the side of the road a week ago.

 

Cora arches an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on it. On the phone, he hears Stiles saying so that’s where I left it. Derek gets out of the car and scents the air, when he doesn’t get a hold of Stiles he starts running to his right, thinking that it’s a direction as good as any.

 

Derek is already half a mile away from his starting point when he gets a hint of a trail, probably a few hours old. He starts following it through a labyrinth of narrow streets and dirty alleyways, wondering how Stiles got past some of the garbage cluttered in the small spaces. He notices the trail weakens at some points, to come back much stronger a few meters ahead. He realizes he’s moving in circles right after that.

 

Oh a hunch, Derek turns left instead of right on a street corner. Stiles’ scent gets stronger around there. His heart is pounding loud in chest, scared of what he might find. About a quarter of a mile in, he hears a steady heartbeat and sprints the few feet between him and the next street corner. Stiles is sitting on the curb less than four feet away.

 

Stiles, having heard him running stands up. Relief, overwhelming relief washes over him as he takes him in, seemingly unharmed and with a small smile on his face.

 

“Yeah, he beat you to it, Cora. You owe me twenty.”

 

Derek can hear Cora’s amused response but it doesn’t register. He only notices Stiles putting away the phone and walking in his direction. When he’s close enough, Derek gives him a once over, trying to assess any injuries. He starts to relax when he doesn’t find any, only to tense at Stiles’ next words.

 

“Are you liking the view?”

 

Derek purposefully ignores him. “Are you okay?”

 

He receives only an eyeroll as a reply.

 

They are silent during their walk back to the car, where Cora is already expecting for them. His sister and Stiles chat all the way to the Stilinski household about whatever they were talking before. Derek doesn’t pay much attention to them.

 

Stiles is back at his house in less than half an hour, thanking Derek for coming and not calling his dad. Derek pretends he’s just annoyed, not immensely relieved at seeing him alive, brushes it off and drives away, avoiding the knowing glances Cora is throwing in his direction.

 

 

* * *

During the afternoon, Malia finds her way to Derek’s loft and asks a million questions about Peter before the fire. Derek wasn’t sure how to reply first, but Cora had started talking saying that he always had seemed a little off. At some point, the conversation drifts to Talia and Cora leaves, still refusing to talk about their mother.

 

Around ten, Malia goes home and Derek’s phone beeps with an incoming text message.

 

_can i ask 4 a favor?_ , it reads.

 

When Derek doesn’t reply after a few minutes, his phone beeps again _come on derek. just this once_.

 

_What do you want?_

 

The phone chimes less than a minute later, _can u keep watch tonight? make sure i don’t sleepwalk out of the county?_

 

He doesn’t think before he sends _Why don’t you ask Scott?_

 

_scott worries too much_ , says the text. Derek doesn’t reply.

 

He puts on a jacket, leaves a message on the desk and heads to Stiles’ place.

 

 

* * *

 

The last time Derek had been in Stiles’ room, he had smelled of anxiety and fear, his fingers had been constantly moving and he kept muttering under his breath. Derek had hated the sight immediately. Now, Stiles is smiling softly at something on his computer screen and, besides the faint smell of meds, he smells happy.

 

Derek’s worry eases somewhat after that and he can breathe almost normally when Stiles looks at him and his smile becomes brighter, making his insides go warmer. Derek tries to ignore it as he leans on the door frame watching Stiles turn off the computer and then get into his bed. Derek lingers there a moment longer than necessary, but eventually goes to a chair and grabs a book from Stiles’ desk. The old copy of Crime and Punishment looks as if it belongs in a museum, almost falling apart as Derek opens it up. He can feel Stiles’ gaze on him but he doesn’t look up.

 

“It’s starting to happen more often,” Stiles says, “it’s not really that I forget about stuff, like where I’m going or how I got there, it’s that I wasn’t paying attention in the first place. It’s like my ADHD became a hundred times worse without me noticing. I keep noticing after, after I got lost, after I’ve been chewing a pencil for half an hour without writing anything, after I’ve told my best friend to fuck off.”

 

Derek glances at Stiles, but he’s lying facing the ceiling, his right arm covering his face.

 

“It won’t be too long before I’m not Stiles anymore,” he whispers, so low that Derek would’ve miss it if he didn’t have enhanced hearing.

 

Derek’s chest tightens at the implications. It won’t be too long before Stiles is gone for good. And because he’s got a Master’s degree on denial, Derek pretends he’s not feeling his world balancing precariously at the mere idea of losing him. He tells himself that he would feel the same thing if Scott or Cora were dying, but deep inside he knows something is different when Stiles is the one in danger. Derek selfishly thinks that Stiles can’t die until he figures out what’s so important about him. Why he keeps doing the things he does only because Stiles is part of the equation.

 

Before dwelling on that thought, Derek says “we’ll never let that happen.”

 

Stiles’ arm moves from his face as he turns to look at Derek. A faint smile crosses his lips. “I suppose I have to stick around for a while. If only to reminisce the good old times when you hated my guts.”

 

Derek doesn’t reply to that. Instead, he starts reading, the next time he looks up to Stiles’ bed, he is drooling on his pillow and his heartbeat has the slow cadence of sleep.

 

 


End file.
